Game of Gardevoirs
by SuperSylveonSoaker
Summary: Gallade is an Arceus-fearing member of Pokemon society. He loves his family very dearly, and is more than willing to do anything to prevent sin from creeping into their lives. What will happen when he discovers a dark truth that threatens to tear his world apart?


**Due to the OVERWHELMINGLY POSITIVE energy I received as a result of the unfinished chapter, I decided to WRITE THE REST ! Please enjoy my BEST STORY SO FAR !**

 _Good lord._ Gallade thought, strutting forth into his beautiful kitchen. _I sure do love my christian family!_ Before him sat his milk-loving family, each with an upper lip of pure ebony joy. A bountiful feast was set upon the table. Can upon can of immaculately stacked milk, so tall it made God squeal in with envy, breaking his own rules. Just the way Gallade liked it.

A plate of butter sat in the middle of the table. Gold bars in a sea of ivory. His lovely wife of twenty years did all this, every morning. Four o' clock sharp every morning, for his loving, christian family. Gallade couldn't get enough of it. It was the orgasm following midnight sleep-sex. A sensual experience for the whole family.

His darling daughter Kirlia sat next to her brother, spoon-feeding him milk straight from the can. She was a pretty one, having inherited all the good genes from Gallade, leaving behind the recessive Slavic genes from her mother. Her luscious green locks fell around her waist, and he could see the beginning of her chest fin— an essential piece of equipment for attracting males. Her submissive eyes drove him wild in the night. He longed to caress them.

If it were up to Gallade, he would keep her as his forever. But God didn't want it that way. If He did, God wouldn't allow women to have heat cycles, as they stole from the wicked Seviper in the Garden. Heat cycles were devious things indeed, giving women the sexual desires they need to procreate. They also distracted hard-working men like Gallade while he worked. It's hard to work with a pokérection after all.

Ralts drank the spooned milk like a champion, doing a better job than Gallade when he was just a Ralts!

Why, the boy was a better Ralts than he was by a wide margin— something Gallade held against the child. The stupid kid thought he was better than Gallade. A five-year-old! What has the world come to when young people start thinking they are better than the old people!

Yet Gallade could not help but feel a shred of pride as his son swallowed the milk, nearly sucking Kirlia's arm into his stomach while doing so.

"That's a good job you're doing there, son," he said.

Ralts turned toward his father. A smile emerged. Then a torrent of milk, the majority of which covered Kirlia. Ralts cooed at his father. Gallade responded with an iconic hero smile.

Kirlia stared at the boy, mouth ajar. Contempt spread like wildfire across her face. She raised her free hand as if to strike him, psychic energy bubbling around her.

Sensing the powerful love the two were sharing, Gallade let loose a throaty laugh. He saw his wife stiffen out of the corner of his eye. Awestruck, no doubt.

Kirlia's expression softened. She lowered her fist, and the energy around her dissipated.

 _Such a powerful bond is shared by those two!_ Gallade thought.

"G-good morning father…" Kirlia said. Milk dripped from her ivory body, but she paid it no mind. Perhaps she put on a brave face for her father, who knew she was far more attractive wet?

Kirlia brought the spoon from Ralts' mouth back to the can of milk. She soaked it, allowing the succulent liquid to both absorb into the spoon and collect within its basin.

Gallade felt his stomach grumble. A night of hip-smashing typically made him famished in the morning, but he could not sit yet. He had to make sure his daughter did her womanly duties correctly.

He watched her as she brought the spoon back to Ralts' lips. Were she to spill even a single drop of the luscious liquid, punishment would ensue. One so severe, the young woman would never be able to function as a person again; for a waste of milk is a waste of life. Every breakfast has required this check after The Incident, and he was content to keep it that way.

As the milk split Ralts' plump, juicy lips, Gallade nodded his approval. She had not failed her duty this day.

"Good girl!" Gallade said. "Perhaps I'll give you a sugar-free candy later. You are doing a good job feeding Ralts after all." Kirlia grimaced.

Females needed sugar-free candy so they didn't get fat. That was a sure way to keep his daughter attractive for potential male suitors. Unlike men, sugar was a potent poison that affected the female uterus. It forced the organ to release chemicals to turn the womanly physique every male desired into something akin to a Wailord. He had seen it firsthand in the war.

Gallade puffed his chest out, proud of her ability to properly care for the other male of the house. It gave him hope. Hope that this otherwise degenerate and sex-crazed generation could navigate the choppy seas that make up this sjw-plagued world. Because there was no way Gallade would feed Ralts— nor could he guide the wayward souls of the new generation, no sir. As the sole provider of the family, Gallade believed his purpose was being fulfilled. Kirlia as learning how to take care of a child, as she would have to do one day, and Ralts was learning to be pampered— as he would also have to do one day. It was a win-win situation for the whole family.

Besides that, Gallade believed fellow males had to fight their own battles. Muddle through life with the same stoic expression Sgt. Pikachu wore on Omaha Beach as he watched his friends get slaughtered by Alolan Icicle Spears. He refused to help them on principle, and Gallade stuck by his sergeant's beliefs, even after the war. The mere thought of a man reaching out to others for help made Gallade sick to his stomach.

He turned to Gardevoir, the aging female he claimed as his own, and the co-creator of his children. She sat painfully straight, eyes ringed with crow's feet and eye bags. He would have to talk to her about that later. The audacity she possessed to _not_ make herself up astounded Gallade. Perhaps she didn't learn her lesson the last time…

Gardevoir held a buttered knife in her right hand, milk in her left. She buttered her milk with the precision of a machine— a skill leftover from an old job she used to have before Gallade saved her. It was an awe-inspiring sight, one that made his knees weak; it was as though Gallade were a school girl receiving God's blessing behind the ceremonial curtain after services had concluded. Of course, he never thought of himself as a school girl, for that would be sacrilegious. Those with ideas of "being the other sex" were delusional. Something he most definitely was not.

A creeping, yet familiar, dampness in his crotch soiled his spotless underwear. The female he married sat before him, buttering milk. The perfect, beautiful female that he rescued from the snakelike grip of feminine empowerment. She reminded him every day of his heroic action— with missionary sex and buttered milk. A just reward for such a holy deed.

"Good morning sweetie," Gardevoir said. She began to rise from her seat with the intention of giving him a kiss, just as she did every morning. Just the way he liked it.

"Ah-ha! No need to rise for me, noble wife," Gallade said, stopping her. "For I shall lean over the table to deliver my affection!"

Gallade leaned over the table. His broad and manly chest fin (which was one of the largest in the region) sensually slid into the butter with a _SCHLUP_. He sloppily kissed his big wife. His tongue scraped the inside of her mouth, collecting the bits of butter and milk she had not swallowed.

Content that he had amassed all she missed, he raised his head to the ceiling, and swallowed, allowing his wife to watch his Abra's apple slither down his throat. He could tell this got her hot and bothered. It was easy to tell when a female was aroused by the look in her eye. Gardevoir's eyes indicated confusion— the sexiest emotion.

Without hesitation, he slid his tongue between her lips once more. He couldn't help but savor the flavor of her delicate mouth. He felt like a pervert, doing this in front of his children, but her saliva appealed to him in ways nothing else did— especially after she had given birth. Perhaps his righteous baby batter had an effect on the taste of her mouth? Only God would know, yet he refused to answer Gallade's inquisitive prayers.

He yearned to taste her post-birth saliva once more. Gallade hoped to impregnate her again soon. Her heat cycle was coming up. He hoped he did not get sent on a work trip as he did during her last cycle. Luckily he managed to squirt off one child before he left. Ralts' birth followed that last cycle, and Gallade could not have been happier.

He pulled away from her after two full minutes of tongue-sucking and mouth-scraping. Thick strands of spittle hanged from his chin.

"Was it as good for you as it was for me?" He asked, and slurped the spittle like spaghetti noodles.

"Mmm," she replied. Her eyes lingered on the soiled butter, face contorted in distress.

"Of course it was!" Gallade declared. He took the empty seat at the head of the table and grabbed a can of milk. He bit down, chewing ravenously. It had been hours since he had last eaten, and his midnight session with Gardevoir left him famished. Unacceptable for the preeminent member of the house. If only his wife could feed him while he slept. He would be invincible then…

"Mom, are you OK?" Kirlia suddenly asked. She was clearly worried about her mother.

Gallade never understood how women could betray their emotions to other like Kirlia was doing. No wonder men were superior.

Gardevoir stared at the spoiled butter. Unblinking, she stood witness to a horrid crime. Something so incomprehensible, so senseless, that she slipped into shock, unable to comprehend the barbarity of the misdeed.

 _Like pooping on a bible,_ Gallade thought.

"Mom?" Kirlia got out of her seat and left her darling brother unattended. She walked over to Gardevoir and shook her. Her mother gave neither reply or reaction to her Kirlia's attempts to undo the older female's stupor.

Gallade watched as Ralts teared up, and grasped at the spoon Kirlia placed on the table, unable to grab it. His arms were too short, and the high chair to restrictive.

Something sinister bubbled inside of Gallade as Ralts sat, unattended and underfed. The boy managed to reach the spoon, but struggled to bring the spoon to his mouth, and spilled milk on the table. None of the moist liquid reached the boy's lips. Rage, pure and unfiltered, swirled within Gallade. Holy milk had been spilled this day, and the perpetrator stood by the person who needed it least.

"Kirlia, I beseech you to sit and feed your brother. This instant. Your mother is simply tired from last night. She didn't get much sleep you see…" Gallade said. Malice dripped from his words.

Were it not for his faith in the One True God, he would have activated his mega form and gone beast mode on this insolent bitch.

Kirlia looked from Gardevoir to him, and back again. She was clearly still worried. She stood by her mother and shook her once again to no avail.

"Father, please. Mom clearly isn't well perhaps we sho-"

"Kirlia!" Gallade shouted. "Lest you wish for The Punishment again, I suggest you sit beside your devilishly handsome brother and continue to feed him. Because of your neglect, milk has been spilled."

Kirlia's eyes widened, fearful. She knew well the consequences. Despite this, she glanced at her mother once more, worry still apparent. She finally left her mother and sat down. Kirlia grimaced, but picked up the spoon and began feeding Ralts again, her hand steady. Ralts sucked the milk down like a feral Mightyena on its last legs.

Gallade's rage subsided. Being a parent required a harsh disposition few had the nerve to conjure. Gallade wished his wife could manage the same temperament, so successfully discipline Kirlia when she does wrong. It was just another flaw Gallade found in his woman.

He finished his balanced breakfast in near-silence, lips smacking delightfully. His wife uttered nary a sound for the remainder of the morning meal— as any woman should. _If only all females were as submissive and quiet as she!_ Gallade Thought.

She didn't even move. A brief moment of panic flashed through him. For what would he do if the bearer and caretaker of his children were to depart and meet God before him? While she was flawed, she was the only one who could watch his children while he provided for the family. The only one able enough to teach Ralts the ways of the lord from home.

Would he acquire another wench to look after his children?

Marry the female his father originally wanted him to have?

…Marry his daughter?

No. He could never marry Kirlia. She had already enraged Gallade, neglecting to pay her full and undivided attention to his succulent son. She would be a terrible mother, even if it were Gallade's child she cared for. Even if it were his child she carried in her prime uterus.

Of course, that sort of thing was to be avoided if at all possible— just as Sgt. Pikachu said— but the option was there.

He would have to speak with his wife about her daughter's failure as a woman soon before she fell victim to lesbianism and teenage boys. An outcome most undesirable for Gallade and his family.

Gallade slammed a fist on the table, startling Gardevoir. Putting his contingency crisis to rest, he issued "The Test" to make sure his wife functioned properly.

He slid an empty can of milk in her direction.

She glanced at it, then him.

He raised his eyebrows seductively.

She blinked slowly. One eyelid closed at a time.

 _God's will be damned_ , he thought. _I am going to push this woman onto the table and sex her brains out._ Never had a woman been more attracted to him, and he to a woman. Gallade could tell by her vapid stare and engorged breasts: she was wetter than a priest in a car full of school girls. And he was ready to take her now.

As he pushed his chair back to stand, she took the can in both hands, stood up, and walked to the sink. She placed the can gently within, calmly walked back to the table, and sat back down. Her eyes still clung to the soiled butter, but much of the distress she displayed earlier had disappeared.

 _A serving of cream pie would help to eliminate such feelings for butter_. Gallde thought. Regrettably, it would have to be far later in the day. He was a working man after all!

Gallade checked the clock and thought about utilizing his manly muscles to provide for the wholesome family he created. They were big muscles too, thick and creamy like a well-cooked milk…

It was 8:30! It was about time he had to leave for work, as he had one every morning for the past twenty years.

Gallade stood, and gave his son bro hug. There was nothing fatherly nor gay about it, just as he intended.

He kissed his daughter on the lips. He even slipped in a bit of tongue to remind her that she was his daughter. The daughter that he loved very much. Not the one that tried to call the police on him.

Oh, how Kirlia loved to feel his raspy tongue split her lips like Moses did the Red Sea!

She pushed him away and sputtered at the ground. She glanced up at him, lips quivering. She looked up at him, her dear ol' dad. The one she trusted most in the world. The person who would love and protect her until the end of time. And he kissed her. He stole her virginity. It was all for him. The patriarch of the family. The true alpha male. The leader of the pack (vroom-vroom). She would never be able to get it back from him either, for he locked it deep within himself. A place she would never be able to get to, even if she shrunk down and entered his body. Oh, the joys and advantages of the male body!

He gave his wife an appropriate peck on the cheek. She knew what it meant. Later he would have to take her to their sacred bed and commit a heinous- yet glorious- sin in the name of God.

"Farewell my doting and lovely family! I am off to make what the kids call 'cheddar' so we can continue to live faithfully in the light of our good God Arceus!" Only Ralts waved him goodbye. The other two sat silently and exchanged a look. Indecipherable to the macho Gallade. He would ask after it later.

He walked to the front door and donned his trademark fedora. He needed this to keep him warm, and to hide his sinful thoughts from God. It was shameful that men walked this world without caps. Everyone knew that men were the most sinful of the two genders- when it concerned the mind anyway. Women were no doubt the sluttiest of the two.

As he stepped out the door and unlocked his 2009 Toyota Prius, which had been peppered with gunshots after he drove through a crowd of Pro-choice protesters, he felt something deep in his bones.

Today was going to be one heck of a glorious day.

 **THANK YOU for reading. I'm looking for CONSTRUCTIVE criticism only so PLEASE REVIEW ! Thank you for reading xoxoxoxo Praise the lord !**


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